PAT*. 

BI3C. 


PUBLICATIONS  OF  THE  GENERAL 
EDUCATION  BOARD 


OCCASIONAL  PAPERS,  No.  3 


A  MODERN  SCHOOL 


BY 


ABRAHAM  FLEXNER 


THE  GENERAL  EDUCATION  BOARD 
61  Broadway  New  York  City 

1916 


PUBLICATIONS 

OF  THE 

GENERAL  EDUCATION  BOARD 
sent  on  request 

The  General  Education  Board :  An  Account  of 
its  Activities  1902-1914.  Cloth,  254  pages,  with 
32  full-page  illustrations  and  maps. 

Public  Education  in  Maryland,  By  Abraham 
Flexner  and  Frank  P.  Bachman.  Paper  or 
cloth,  196  pages,  illustrated. 


OCCASIONAL  PAPERS 

1.  The  Country  School  of  To-morrow,  By  Fred¬ 
erick  T.  Gates.  Paper,  15  pages. 

2.  Changes  Needed  in  American  Secondary 
Education,  By  Charles  W.  Eliot.  Paper,  29 
pages. 

3.  A  Modern  School,  By  Abraham  Flexner. 
Paper,  24  pages. 


Report  of  the  Secretary  of  the  General  Educa¬ 
tion  Board,  1914-1915,  paper,  96  pages. 


PREFATORY  NOTE 

At  several  of  its  recent  meetings,  the  subject  of  elementary  and 
secondary  education  has  been  discussed  by  the  General  Education 
Board.  President  Eliot’s  paper,  entitled  “Changes  Needed  in 
American  Secondary  Education”1  was  prepared  in  this  connection 
and  was  the  centre  of  discussion  at  one  meeting;  the  present 
paper  formed  the  topic  of  discussion  at  another.  The  attitude 
of  the  Board  towards  the  position  taken  in  these  two  papers  is  ex¬ 
pressed  in  the  following,  quoted  from  the  minute  adopted  by  the 
Board: 

“The  General  Education  Board  does  not  endorse  or  promulgate 
any  educational  theory,  but  is  interested  in  facilitating  the  trial 
of  promising  educational  experiments  under  proper  conditions. 

“The  Board  authorizes  the  publication  of  these  papers  with 
a  request  for  criticism  and  suggestions,  and  an  expression  of  opinion 
as  to  the  desirability  and  feasibility  of  an  experiment  of  this  type.” 


Published  by  the  General  Education  Board  as  No.  2  in  its  series  of  Occa¬ 
sional  Papers. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2019  with  funding  from 
Columbia  University  Libraries 


https://archive.org/details/modernschool00flex_0 


A  MODERN  SCHOOL 


BY 

ABRAHAM  FLEXNER 


CURRENT  EDUCATION 

4  S  PRESIDENT  ELIOT  has  so  clearly  pointed  out  in  his 
paper  on  the  “Changes  Needed  in  American  Secondary 
Education,”  tradition  still  too  largely  determines  both 
the  substance  and  the  purpose  of  current  education.  A  certain 
amount  of  readjustment  has  indeed  taken  place;  in  some  respects 
almost  frantic  efforts  are  making  to  force  this  or  that  modern  sub¬ 
ject  into  the  course  of  study.  But  traditional  methods  and  pur¬ 
poses  are  strong  enough  to  maintain  most  of  the  traditional  cur¬ 
riculum  and  to  confuse  the  handling  of  material  introduced  in 
response  to  the  pressure  of  the  modern  spirit.  It  is  therefore 
still  true  that  the  bulk  of  the  time  and  energy  of  our  children  at 
school  is  devoted  to  formal  work  developed  by  schoolmasters  with¬ 
out  close  or  constant  reference  to  genuine  individual  or  social 
need.  The  subjects  in  question  deal  predominantly  with  words 
or  abstractions,  remote  from  use  and  experience;  and  they  con¬ 
tinue  to  be  acquired  by  children  because  the  race  has  formed  the 
habit  of  acquiring  them,  or,  more  accurately,  the  habit  of  going 
through  the  form  of  acquiring  them,  rather  than  because  they 
serve  the  real  purposes  of  persons  living  to-day.  Generally  speak¬ 
ing,  it  may  be  safely  affirmed  that  the  subjects  commonly  taught, 
the  time  at  which  they  are  taught,  the  manner  in  which  they  are 
taught,  and  the  amounts  taught  are  determined  by  tradition,  not 
by  a  fresh  and  untrammeled  consideration  of  living  and  present 
needs. 


6 

I  am  not  forgetful  of  the  fact  that  the  moment  a  student  takes 
fire  in  studying  any  subject,  no  matter  how  remote  or  abstract, 
it  assumes  a  present  reality  for  him.  Thus,  sometimes  through 
the  personality  of  the  teacher,  less  often  through  the  congeniality 
of  the  subject  matter,  Latin  and  algebra  may  seem  as  real  to  partic¬ 
ular  students  as  woodwork,  Shakespeare,  biology  or  current  events. 
It  still  remains  true,  however,  that  these  cases  are  highly  excep¬ 
tional;  and  that  most  children  in  the  elementary  and  high  schools 
struggle  painfully  and  ineffectually  to  bring  the  subject  matter 
of  their  studies  within  a  world  that  is  real  and  genuine  for  them. 
The  best  of  them  succeed  fitfully;  most  of  them  never  succeed 
at  all. 

It  is  perhaps  worth  while  stopping  long  enough  to  show  by 
figures  the  extent  to  which  our  current  teaching  fails.  Complete 
statistics  which  would  tell  us  how  many  of  all  the  pupils  who  study 
Latin  and  algebra  and  geometry  fail  to  master  them  do  not  exist. 
But  we  know  that  a  large  percentage  of  the  better  students  of 
these  subjects  try  the  College  Entrance  Examinations,  and  that 
for  these  examinations  many  receive  special  drill  in  addition  to 
the  regular  teaching.  Now  in  the  examinations  held  by  the  College 
Entrance  Board  in  1915,  76.6  per  cent,  of  the  candidates  failed 
to  make  even  a  mark  of  60  per  cent,  in  Cicero;  75  per  cent,  failed 
to  make  a  mark  of  60  per  cent,  in  the  first  six  books  of  Vergil,  every 
line  of  which  they  had  presumably  read  and  re-read;  69.7  per  cent, 
of  those  examined  in  algebra  from  quadratics  on  failed  to  make  as 
much  as  60  per  cent.;  42.4  per  cent,  failed  to  make  60  per  cent,  in 
plane  geometry.  What  would  the  record  be  if  all  who  studied 
these  subjects  were  thus  examined  by  an  impartial  outside  body? 
Probably  some  of  those  who  fail  do  not  do  themselves  justice;  but 
as  many — perhaps  more — of  the  few  who  reach  the  really  low  mark 
of  60  per  cent,  do  so  by  means  of  devices  that  represent  stultifica¬ 
tion  rather  than  intelligence.  For  nothing  is  commoner  in  the 
teaching  of  ancient  languages  and  formal  mathematics  than  drill¬ 
ing  in  arbitrary  signs  by  means  of  which  pupils  determine  me¬ 
chanically  what  they  should  do,  without  intelligent  insight  into 
what  they  are  doing.  It  is  therefore  useless  to  inquire  whether  a 
knowledge  of  Latin  and  mathematics  is  valuable,  because  pupils 
do  not  get  it;  and  it  is  equally  beside  the  mark  to  ask  whether  the 
effort  to  obtain  this  knowledge  is  a  valuable  discipline,  since  failure 


7 

is  so  widespread  that  the  only  habits  acquired  through  failing  to 
learn  Latin  or  algebra  are  habits  of  slipshod  work,  of  guessing  and 
of  mechanical  application  of  formulae,  not  themselves  understood. 

A  word  should  perhaps  be  said  at  this  point  by  way  of  explaining 
why  the  Germans  appear  to  succeed  where  we  fail.  There  are 
two  reasons:  in  the  first  place,  the  German  gymnasium  makes  a 
ruthless  selection.  It  rejects  without  compunction  large  num¬ 
bers  whom  we  in  America  endeavor  to  educate;  and  on  the  edu¬ 
cation  of  this  picked  minority  it  brings  to  bear  such  pressure  as 
we  can  never  hope  to  apply — family  pressure,  social  pressure, 
official  pressure.  Under  such  circumstances,  success  is  possible 
with  small  numbers;  but  the  rising  tide  of  opposition  to  the  classical 
gymnasium  and  the  development  of  modern  schools  with  equivalent 
privileges  show  that  even  in  Germany  the  traditional  education  is 
undermined. 

But  not  only  do  American  children  as  a  class  fail  to  gain  either 
knowledge  or  power  through  the  traditional  curriculum — they 
spend  an  inordinately  long  time  in  failing.  The  period  spent  in 
school  and  college  before  students  begin  professional  studies  is 
longer  in  the  United  States  than  in  any  other  western  country. 
An  economy  of  two  or  three  years  is  urgently  necessary.  The 
Modern  School  must  therefore  not  only  find  what  students  can 
really  learn — it  must  feel  itself  required  to  solve  its  problem  within 
a  given  number  of  years — the  precise  number  being  settled  in 
advance  on  social,  economic  and  professional  grounds.  Its  prob¬ 
lem  may  perhaps  be  formulated  in  these  terms:  how  much  edu¬ 
cation  of  a  given  type  can  a  boy  or  girl  get  before  reaching  the 
age  of,  let  us  say,  twenty,  on  the  theory  that  at  that  age  general 
opportunities  automatically  terminate?  • 

A  MODERN  CONCEPTION  OF  EDUCATION 

Before  I  undertake  to  do  this,  it  is  necessary  to  define  education 
for  the  purposes  of  this  sketch;  and  for  obvious  reasons  this  de¬ 
finition  will  be  framed  from  a  practical  rather  than  from  a  philosoph¬ 
ical  point  of  view.  All  little  children  have  certain  common  needs; 
but,  beginning  with  adolescence,  education  is  full  of  alternatives. 
The  education  planned  for  children  who  must  leave  school  at 
fourteen  necessarily  differs  in  extent  and  thus  to  a  degree  in  con¬ 
tent  from  that  feasible  for  those  who  can  remain,  say,  two  years 


8 

longer,  so  as  to  acquire  the  rudiments  of  a  vocation.  Still  different 
are  the  possibilities  for  children  who  have  the  good  fortune  to 
remain  until  they  are  eighteen  or  twenty,  reasonably  free  during 
this  lengthened  period  from  the  necessity  of  determining  procedure 
by  other  than  educational  considerations.  I  assume  that  the 
Modern  School  of  which  we  are  now  speaking  contemplates  liberal 
and  general  education  in  the  sense  last-mentioned.  With  regard 
to  children  who  expect  to  enjoy  such  opportunities,  what  do  we 
moderns  mean  when  we  speak  of  an  educated  man?  How  do  we 
know  and  recognize  an  educated  man  in  the  modern  sense?  What 
can  he  do  that  an  uneducated  man — uneducated  in  the  modern 
sense — cannot  do? 

I  suggest,  that,  in  the  first  place,  a  man  educated  in  the  modern 
sense,  has  mastered  the  fundamental  tools  of  knowledge:  he  can 
read  and  write;  he  can  spell  the  words  he  is  in  the  habit  of  using; 
he  can  express  himself  clearly  orally  or  in  writing;  he  can  figure 
correctly  and  with  moderate  facility  within  the  limits  of  practical 
need;  he  knows  something  about  the  globe  on  which  he  lives.  So 
far  there  is  no  difference  between  a  man  educated  in  the  modern 
sense  and  a  man  educated  in  any  other  sense. 

There  is,  however,  a  marked  divergence  at  the  next  step.  The 
education  which  we  are  criticising  is  overwhelmingly  formal  and 
traditional.  If  objection  is  made  to  this  or  that  study  on  the 
ground  that  it  is  useless  or  unsuitable,  the  answer  comes  that  it 
“trains  the  mind”  or  has  been  valued  for  centuries.  “Training 
the  mind”  in  the  sense  in  which  the  claim  is  thus  made  for  algebra 
or  ancient  languages  is  an  assumption  none  too  well  founded; 
traditional  esteem  is  an  insufficient  offset  to  present  and  future 
uselessness.  A  man  educated  in  the  modern  sense  will  forego  the 
somewhat  doubtful  mental  discipline  received  from  formal  studies; 
he  will  be  contentedly  ignorant  of  things  for  learning  which  no 
better  reason  than  tradition  can  be  assigned.  Instead,  his  edu¬ 
cation  will  be  obtained  from  studies  that  serve  real  purposes.  Its 
content,  spirit  and  aim  will  be  realistic  and  genuine,  not  formal  or 
traditional.  Thus,  the  man  educated  in  the  modern  sense  will  be 
trained  to  know,  to  care  about  and  to  understand  the  world  he 
lives  in,  both  the  physical  world  and  the  social  world.  A  firm  grasp 
of  the  physical  world  means  the  capacity  to  note  and  to  interpret 
phenomena;  a  firm  grasp  of  the  social  world  means  a  compre- 


9 

hension  of  and  sympathy  with  current  industry,  current  science 
and  current  politics.  The  extent  to  which  the  history  and  liter¬ 
ature  of  the  past  are  utilized  depends,  not  on  what  we  call  the 
historic  value  of  this  or  that  performance  or  classic,  but  on  its 
actual  pertinency  to  genuine  need,  interest  or  capacity.  In  any 
case,  the  object  in  view  would  be  to  give  children  the  knowledge 
they  need,  and  to  develop  in  them  the  power  to  handle  themselves 
in  our  own  world.  Neither  historic  nor  what  are  called  purely 
cultural  claims  would  alone  be  regarded  as  compelling. 

Even  the  progressive  curricula  of  the  present  time  are  far  from 
accepting  the  principle  above  formulated.  For,  though  they 
include  things  that  serve  purposes,  their  eliminations  are  altogether 
too  timid.  They  have  occasionally  dropped,  occasionally  cur¬ 
tailed,  what  experience  shows  to  be  either  unnecessary  or  hope¬ 
lessly  unsuitable.  But  they  retain  the  bulk  of  the  traditional 
course  of  study,  and  present  it  in  traditional  fashion,  because  an 
overwhelming  case  has  not — so  it  is  judged — yet  been  made  against 
it.  If,  however,  the  standpoint  which  I  have  urged  were  adopted, 
the  curriculum  would  contain  only  what  can  be  shown  to  serve  a 
purpose.  The  burden  of  proof  would  be  on  the  subject,  not  on 
those  who  stand  ready  to  eliminate  it.  If  the  subject  serves  a 
purpose,  it  is  eligible  to  the  curriculum;  otherwise  not.  I  need 
not  stop  at  this  juncture  to  show  that  “serving  a  purpose,”  “use¬ 
ful,”  “genuine,”  “realistic,”  and  other  descriptive  terms  are  not 
synonymous  with  “utilitarian,”  “materialistic,”  “commercial,”  etc., 
for  intellectual  and  spiritual  purposes  are  genuine  and  valid,  pre¬ 
cisely  as  are  physical,  physiological,  and  industrial  purposes. 
That  will  become  clear  as  we  proceed. 

It  follows  from  the  way  in  which  the  child  is  made  and  from  the 
constitution  and  appeal  of  modern  society  that  instruction  in 
objects  and  in  phenomena  will  at  one  time  or  another  play  a  very 
prominent  part  in  the  Modern  School.  It  is,  however,  clear  that 
mere  knowledge  of  phenomena,  and  mere  ability  to  understand  or 
to  produce  objects  falls  short  of  the  ultimate  purpose  of  a  liberal 
education.  Such  knowledge  and  such  ability  indubitably  have,  as 
President  Eliot’s  paper  pointed  out,  great  value  in  themselves; 
and  they  imply  such  functioning  of  the  senses  as  promises  a  rich 
fund  of  observation  and  experience.  But  in  the  end,  if  the  Modern 
School  is  to  be  adequate  to  the  need  of  modern  life,  this  concrete 


IO 


training  must  produce  sheer  intellectual  power.  Abstract  think¬ 
ing  has  perhaps  never  before  played  so  important  a  part  in  life  as 
in  this  materialistic  and  scientific  world  of  ours— this  world  of  rail¬ 
roads,  automobiles,  wireless  telegraphy,  and  international  relation¬ 
ships.  Our  problems  involve  indeed  concrete  data  and  present 
themselves  in  concrete  forms;  but,  back  of  the  concrete  details, 
lie  difficult  and  involved  intellectual  processes.  Hence  the  real¬ 
istic  education  we  propose  must  eventuate  in  intellectual  power. 
We  must  not  only  cultivate  the  child’s  interests,  senses,  and  prac¬ 
tical  skill,  but  we  must  train  him  to  interpret  what  he  thus  gets  to 
the  end  that  he  may  not  only  be  able  to  perceive  and  to  do,  but 
that  he  may  know  in  intellectual  terms  the  significance  of  what  he 
has  perceived  and  done.  The  Modern  School  would  prove  a  dis¬ 
appointment,  unless  greater  intellectual  power  is  procurable  on 
the  basis  of  a  realistic  training  than  has  been  procured  from  a 
formal  education,  which  is  prematurely  intellectual  and  to  no 
slight  extent  a  mere  make-believe. 

A  MODERN  CURRICULUM 

Aside  from  the  simply  instrumental  studies  mentioned — read¬ 
ing,  writing,  spelling  and  figuring — the  curriculum  of  the  modern 
school  would  be  built  out  of  actual  activities  in  four  main  fields 
which  I  shall  designate  as  science,  industry,  aesthetics,  civics.  Let 
me  sketch  briefly  a  realistic  treatment  of  each  of  these  fields. 

The  work  in  science  would  be  the  central  and  dominating  feature 
of  the  school — a  departure  that  is  sound  from  the  standpoint  of 
psychology  and  necessary  from  the  standpoint  of  our  main  pur¬ 
pose.  Children  would  begin  by  getting  acquainted  with  objects — 
animate  and  inanimate;  they  would  learn  to  know  trees,  plants, 
animals,  hills,  streams,  rocks,  and  to  care  for  animals  and  plants. 
At  the  next  stage,  they  would  follow  the  life  cycles  of  plants  and 
animals  and  study  the  processes  to  be  observed  in  inanimate  things. 
They  would  also  begin  experimentation — physical,  chemical,  and 
biological.  In  the  upper  grades,  science  would  gradually  assume 
more  systematic  form.  On  the  basis  of  abundant  sense-acquired 
knowledge  and  with  senses  sharpened  by  constant  use,  children 
would  be  interested  in  problems  and  in  the  theoretic  basis  on  which 
their  solution  depends.  They  will  make  and  understand  a  fireless 
cooker,  a  camera,  a  wireless  telegraph;  and  they  will  ultimately 


II 


deal  with  phenomena  and  their  relations  in  the  most  rigorous  sci¬ 
entific  form. 

The  work  in  science  just  outlined  differs  from  what  is  now  at¬ 
tempted  in  both  its  extent  and  the  point  of  view.  Our  efforts  at 
science  teaching  up  to  this  time  have  been  disappointing  for  reasons 
which  the  above  outline  avoids:  the  elementary  work  has  been 
altogether  too  incidental;  the  advanced  work  has  been  prematurely 
abstract;  besides,  general  conditions  have  been  unfavorable.  The 
high  school  boy  who  begins  a  systematic  course  of  physics  or  chem¬ 
istry  without  the  previous  training  above  described  lacks  the  basis  in 
experience  which  is  needed  to  make  systematic  science  genuinely 
real  to  him.  The  usual  textbook  in  physics  or  chemistry  plunges 
him  at  once  into  a  world  of  symbols  and  definitions  as  abstract  as 
algebra.  Had  an  adequate  realistic  treatment  preceded,  the 
symbols,  when  he  finally  reached  them,  would  be  realities.  The 
abyss  between  sense  training  and  intellectual  training  would  thus 
be  bridged. 

Of  coordinate  importance  with  the  world  of  science  is  the  world 
of  industry.  The  child’s  mind  is  easily  captured  for  the  observa¬ 
tion  and  execution  of  industrial  and  commercial  processes.  The 
industries  growing  out  of  the  fundamental  needs  of  food,  clothing 
and  shelter;  the  industries,  occupations  and  apparatus  involved 
in  transportation  and  communication — all  furnish  practically  un¬ 
limited  openings  for  constructive  experiences,  for  experiments  and 
for  the  study  of  commercial  practices.  Through  such  experiences 
the  boy  and  girl  obtain  not  only  a  clearer  understanding  of  the 
social  and  industrial  foundations  of  life,  but  also  opportunities  for 
expression  and  achievement  in  terms  natural  to  adolescence. 

Under  the  word  “aesthetics” — an  inappropriate  term,  I  admit — I 
include  literature,  language,  art,  and  music — subjects  in  which  the 
schools  are  mainly  interested  on  the  appreciative  side.  Perhaps 
in  no  other  realm  would  a  realistic  point  of  view  play  greater  havoc 
with  established  routine.  The  literature  that  most  schools  now 
teach  is  partly  obsolete,  partly  ill-timed,  rarely  effective  or  appeal¬ 
ing.  Now  nothing  is  more  wasteful  of  time  or  in  the  long  run  more 
damaging  to  good  taste  than  unwilling  and  spasmodic  attention 
to  what  history  and  tradition  stamp  as  meritorious  or  respectable 
in  literature;  nothing  more  futile  than  the  make-believe  by  which 
children  are  forced  to  worship  as  “classics”  or  “standards”  what 


12 


in  their  hearts  they  revolt  from  because  it  is  ill-chosen  or  ill- 
adjusted.  The  historic  importance  or  inherent  greatness  of  a  lit¬ 
erary  document  furnishes  the  best  of  reasons  why  a  mature  critical 
student  of  literature  or  literary  history  should  attend  to  it;  but 
neither  consideration  is  of  the  slightest  educational  cogency  in 
respect  to  a  child  at  school.  A  realistic  treatment  of  literature 
would  take  hold  of  the  child’s  normal  and  actual  interests  in  ro¬ 
mance,  adventure,  fact  or  what  not,  and  endeavor  to  develop  them 
into  as  effective  habits  of  reading  as  may  be.  Translations, 
adaptations  and  originals  in  the  vernacular — old  and  new — are  all 
equally  available.  They  ought  to  be  used  unconventionally  and 
resourcefully,  not  in  order  that  the  child  may  get — what  he  will  not 
get  anyway — a  conspectus  of  literary  development;  not  in  order 
that  he  may  some  day  be  certificated  as  having  analyzed  a  few 
outstanding  literary  classics;  but  solely  in  order  that  his  real 
interest  in  books  may  be  carried  as  far  and  as  high  as  is  for  him 
possible;  and  in  this  effort,  the  methods  pursued  should  be  cal¬ 
culated  to  develop  his  interest  and  his  taste,  not  to  “  train  his  mind” 
or  to  make  of  him  a  make-believe  literary  scholar.  There  would  be 
less  pretentiousness  in  the  realistic  than  there  is  in  the  orthodox 
teaching  of  literature;  but  perhaps  in  the  end  the  child  would 
really  know  and  care  about  some  of  the  living  masterpieces  and 
in  any  event  there  might  exist  some  connection  between  the  school’s 
teaching  and  the  child’s  spontaneous  out-of-school  reading. 

Of  the  part  to  be  played  by  art  and  music  I  am  not  qualified  to 
speak.  I  do  not  even  know  to  what  extent  their  teaching  has  been 
thought  of  from  this  point  of  view.  I  venture  to  submit,  however, 
that  the  problem  presented  by  them  does  not  differ  in  principle 
from  the  problem  presented  by  literature.  Literature  is  to  be 
taught  in  the  Modern  School  primarily  for  the  purpose  of  develop¬ 
ing  taste,  interest  and  appreciation,  not  for  the  purpose  of  producing 
persons  who  make  literature  or  who  seem  to  know  its  history;  we 
hope  to  train  persons,  not  to  write  poems  or  to  discuss  their  his¬ 
toric  place,  but  to  care  vitally  for  poetry — though  not  perhaps 
without  a  suspicion  that  this  is  the  surest  way  of  liberating  creative 
talent.  The  Modern  School  would,  in  the  same  way,  endeavor  to 
develop  a  spontaneous,  discriminating  and  genuine  artistic  interest 
and  appreciation — rather  than  to  fashion  makers  of  music  and  art. 
It  would  take  hold  of  the  child  where  he  is  and  endeavor  to  develop 


13 

and  to  refine  his  taste;  it  would  not  begin  with  “classics”  nor 
would  it  necessarily  end  with  them.  By  way  of  showing,  however, 
that  a  real  curriculum  is  not  synonymous  with  an  easy  curriculum, 
I  may  say  that,  if,  as  one  factor  in  appreciation,  it  should  be  de¬ 
cided  that  all  children  should  at  least  endeavor  to  learn,  say,  some 
form  of  instrumental  music,  the  fact  that  there  are  certain  advan¬ 
tages  to  be  gained  from  an  early  start  must  decide  the  “when” 
and  the  “how,”  regardless  of  the  child’s  inclination  or  disinclina¬ 
tion.  It  is  none  the  less  true,  however,  that  the  child’s  interests 
and  capacities  are  in  general  so  fundamental  and  so  significant 
that  the  question  here  raised  is  not  often  presented.  Most  of 
what  a  child  should  do  coincides  with  its  own  preference,  or  with 
a  preference  very  readily  elicited.  But  preference  or  lack  of  pre¬ 
ference  on  the  child’s  part  is  not  a  sole  or  final  consideration. 

The  study  of  foreign  languages  must  be  considered  in  this  connec¬ 
tion.  The  case  of  Latin  and  Greek  will  be  taken  up  later;  German, 
French,  perhaps  other  languages  are  now  in  question.  Languages 
have  no  value  in  themselves;  they  exist  solely  for  the  purpose  of 
communicating  ideas  and  abbreviating  our  thought  and  action 
processes.  If  studied,  they  are  valuable  only  in  so  far  as  they  are 
practically  mastered — not  otherwise;  so  at  least  the  Modern 
School  holds.  From  this  standpoint,  for  purposes  of  travel,  trade, 
study,  and  enjoyment,  educated  men  who  do  not  know  French 
and  German  usually  come  to  regret  it  keenly.  When  they  en¬ 
deavor  during  mature  life  to  acquire  a  foreign  tongue,  they  find  the 
task  inordinately  difficult  and  the  results  too  often  extremely  dis¬ 
appointing.  It  happens,  however,  that  practical  mastery  of 
foreign  languages  can  be  attained  early  in  life  with  comparative 
ease.  A  school  trying  to  produce  a  resourceful  modern  type  of 
educated  man  and  woman  would  therefore  provide  practical  train¬ 
ing  in  one  or  more  modern  languages. 

The  fourth  main  division  which  I  have  called  civics,  includes 
history,  institutions,  and  current  happenings.  Much  has  been 
written,  little  done,  toward  the  effective  modernization  of  this  work; 
so  that  though  new  views  of  historical  values  prevail  in  theory,  the 
schools  go  on  teaching  the  sort  of  history  they  have  always  taught 
and  in  pretty  much  the  same  way.  “Should  a  student  of  the  past,” 
writes  Professor  Robinson  of  Columbia,  “be  asked  what  he  re¬ 
garded  as  the  most  original  and  far-reaching  discovery  of  modern 


H 

times,  he  might  reply  with  some  assurance  that  it  is  our  growing 
realization  of  the  fundamental  importance  and  absorbing  interest 
of  common  men  and  common  things.”1  Now  the  conventional 
treatment  of  history  is  political.  Meanwhile,  as  Professor  Robin¬ 
son  goes  on  to  say,  “It  is  clear  that  our  interests  are  changing,  and 
consequently  the  kind  of  questions  that  we  ask  the  past  to  answer. 
Our  most  recent  manuals  venture  to  leave  out  some  of  the  tradi¬ 
tional  facts  least  appropriate  for  an  elementary  review  of  the  past 
and  endeavor  to  bring  their  narrative  into  relation,  here  and  there, 
with  modern  needs  and  demands.  But  I  think  that  this  process  of 
eliminating  the  old  and  substituting  the  new  might  be  carried  much 
farther;  that  our  best  manuals  are  still  crowded  with  facts  that 
are  not  worth  while  bringing  to  the  attention  of  our  boys  and  girls 
and  that  they  still  omit  in  large  measure  those  things  that  are 
best  worth  telling.”2  If  this  be  true,  as  it  appears  to  be,  the 
realistic  approach  may  make  as  much  difference  in  history  as  in 
literature. 

The  subject  of  mathematics  offers  peculiar  difficulty.  Perhaps 
nowhere  else  is  waste  through  failure  so  great.  Moreover,  even 
when  a  certain  degree  of  success  is  attained,  it  happens  often  that 
it  is  quite  unintelligent;  children  mechanically  carry  out  certain 
operations  in  algebra,  guided  by  arbitrary  signs  and  models;  or 
they  learn  memoriter  a  series  of  propositions  in  geometry.  The 
hollowness  of  both  performances — and  most  children  do  not  ac¬ 
complish  even  so  much — is  evident  the  moment  a  mathematical 
problem  takes  a  slightly  unfamiliar  turn.  The  child’s  helplessness 
exhibits  a  striking  lack  of  both  mathematical  knowledge  and 
“mental  discipline.”  It  cannot  be  that  this  training  through 
failure  is  really  valuable.  Finally,  a  point  might  even  be  made  on 
the  ground  that  algebra  and  geometry  as  traditionally  taught  are 
mainly  deductive  exercises,  whereas  practical  living  involves  the 
constant  interplay  of  observation,  induction  and  deduction.  The 
artificiality  of  conventional  mathematics  therefore  raises  a  sus¬ 
picion  as  to  its  value — even  were  the  subjects  mastered. 

The  truth  is  that  the  present  position  of  both  algebra  and  ge¬ 
ometry  is  historical.  Now,  let  us  suppose  the  realistic  standard 
applied — how  much  mathematics  would  be  taught,  when,  and  in 

x“The  New  History,”  (New  York,  1913)  p.  132. 

2  Ibid,  p.  137. 


i5 

what  form?  “Mental  discipline”  as  a  formal  object  is  not  a  “real¬ 
istic”  argument,  since,  as  has  been  already  said,  it  is  an  unproved 
assumption.  At  any  rate,  it  is  for  those  who  believe  in  it  to  de¬ 
monstrate  how  much  good  it  does  most  children  to  make  a  failure 
in  algebra  and  geometry.  Is  the  elaborate  study  of  mathematical 
and  spatial  relations  through  algebra  and  geometry  a  valid  under¬ 
taking  for  its  own  sake?  If  so,  neither  the  disinclination  of  the 
child  nor  the  difficulty  of  the  achievement  is  a  reason  for  abandoning 
it.  Disinclination  and  difficulty  in  that  case  simply  put  a  problem 
up  to  the  teachers  of  the  subject:  it  is  for  them  to  find  ways  of 
triumphing  over  both.  If,  however,  this  study  does  not  serve  a 
legitimate  and  genuine  purpose,  then  the  mathematical  curriculum 
must  undergo  a  radical  reorganization  for  the  purpose  of  treating 
algebra  and  geometry  from  the  standpoint  of  the  other  subjects 
which  they  serve.  They  would  be  taught  in  such  form,  in  such 
amounts  and  at  such  times  as  the  other  subjects  required.  Thus 
geometry  would  be  decreased  in  amount  by  something  like  two- 
thirds  or  three-fourths1  and  the  form  of  the  remaining  fourth  would 
be  considerably  modified.  It  is  interesting  to  observe  that  doubt 
as  to  the  soundness  and  value  of  our  mathematical  instruction  has 
recently  become  so  serious  a  matter  that  the  Association  of  Teach¬ 
ers  of  Mathematics  in  New  England  has  suggested  “a  one-year 
course  in  elementary  algebra  and  geometry  of  a  concrete  sort,  de¬ 
signed  so  far  as  possible  to  test  the  pupil’s  qualifications  for  future 
mathematical  study”;2  and  Dr.  Snedden  has  raised  the  question 
as  to  why  girls  in  high  schools  or  as  candidates  for  college  should 
be  required  to  present  algebra;  he  has  also  urged  that  a  knowledge 
of  algebra  is  of  no  importance  to  men  following  law,  medicine, 
journalism,  or  theology.3  Professor  Breslich  of  Chicago,  has  been 
attacking  the  same  problem  vigorously  from  a  not  unrelated 
point  of  view.4  Without  considering  any  point  settled,  it  is  clear 
that  a  Modern  School  which  wiped  the  slate  of  mathematics  and 

1  “All  the  facts  of  geometry  that  a  skilled  mechanic  or  an  engineer  would 
ever  need  could  be  taught  in  a  few  lessons.  All  the  rest  is  either  obvious  or  is 
commercially  and  technically  useless.” — D.  E.  Smith,  “Teaching  of  Geometry,” 
(New  York,  1911)  p.  7. 

Preliminary  Report  on  Status  of  Mathematics  in  Secondary  Schools,  Decem¬ 
ber,  1914,  p.  11. 

3  Ibid,  p.  4. 

4  First  Year  Mathematics,  (Chicago,  1906.)  Author’s  Preface. 


i6 

then  subsequently  wrote  upon  it  only  what  was  found  to  serve  the 
real  needs  of  quantitative  thought  and  action  might  evolve  a 
curriculum  in  mathematics  that  we  should  not  recognize. 

For  convenience  sake,  the  four  large  fields  of  activity  have  been 
separately  discussed.  But  it  must  be  pointed  out  that  the  failure 
of  the  traditional  school  to  make  cross  connections  is  an  additional 
unreality.  The  traditional  school  teaches  composition  in  the 
English  classes;  quantitative  work,  in  the  mathematics  classes; 
history,  literature,  and  so  on  each  in  its  appropriate  division. 
Efforts  are  indeed  making  to  overcome  this  separateness  but  they 
have  gone  only  a  little  way.  The  Modern  School  would  from  the 
first  undertake  the  cultivation  of  contacts  and  cross-connections. 
Every  exercise  would  be  a  spelling  lesson;  science,  industry,  and 
mathematics  would  be  inseparable;  science,  industry,  history, 
civics,  literature,  and  geography  would  to  some  extent  utilize  the 
same  material.  These  suggestions  are  in  themselves  not  new  and 
not  wholly  untried.  What  is  lacking  is  a  consistent,  thorough¬ 
going,  and  fearless  embodiment.  For  even  the  teachers  who 
believe  in  modern  education  are  so  situated  that  either  they 
cannot  act,  or  they  act  under  limitations  that  are  fatal  to  effective 
effort. 

In  speaking  of  the  course  of  study,  I  have  dwelt  wholly  on  con¬ 
tent.  Unquestionably,  however,  a  curriculum,  revolutionized  in 
content,  will  be  presented  by  methods  altered  to  suit  the  spirit 
and  aim  of  the  instruction.  For  children  will  not  be  taught  merely 
in  order  that  they  may  know  or  be  able  to  do  certain  things  that 
they  do  not  now  know  and  cannot  now  do,  but  material  will  be 
presented  to  them  in  ways  that  promote  their  proper  development 
and  growth — individually  and  socially.  For  education  is  not  only 
a  matter  of  what  people  can  do,  but  also  of  what  they  are. 

In  the  preceding  sketch,  I  have  made  no  distinction  between  the 
sexes.  It  is  just  as  important  for  a  girl  as  it  is  for  a  boy  to  be  inter¬ 
ested  in  the  phenomenal  world,  to  know  how  to  observe,  to  infer, 
and  to  reason,  to  understand  industrial,  social,  and  political  de¬ 
velopments,  to  read  good  books,  and  to  finish  school  by  the  age  of 
twenty.  Differentiation  at  one  point  or  another  may  be  suggested 
by  experience.  In  any  event  the  Modern  School,  with  its  strongly 
realistic  emphasis  will  undoubtedly  not  overlook  woman’s  domestic 
role  and  family  function. 


17 


WHAT  THE  CURRICULUM  OMITS 

This  necessarily  brief  and  untechnical  sketch  will  perhaps  be¬ 
come  more  definite  if  I  look  at  the  curriculum  from  the  standpoint 
of  the  omissions.  Let  us  restate  our  guiding  thesis:  modern  edu¬ 
cation  will  include  nothing  simply  because  tradition  recommends  it 
or  because  its  inutility  has  not  been  conclusively  established.  It 
proceeds  in  precisely  the  opposite  way:  it  includes  nothing  for  which 
an  affirmative  case  cannot  now  he  made  out .  As  has  already  been 
intimated,  this  method  of  approach  would  probably  result  in  greatly 
reducing  the  time  allowed  to  mathematics,  and  in  decidedly  chang¬ 
ing  the  form  of  what  is  still  retained.  If,  for  example,  only  so 
much  arithmetic  is  taught  as  people  actually  have  occasion  to  use, 
the  subject  will  shrink  to  modest  proportions;  and  if  this  reduced 
amount  is  taught  so  as  to  serve  real  purposes,  the  teachers  of  sci¬ 
ence,  industry,  and  domestic  economy  will  do  much  of  it  incident¬ 
ally.  The  same  policy  may  be  employed  in  dealing  with  algebra 
and  geometry.  What  is  taught,  when  it  is  taught,  and  how  it  is 
taught  will  in  that  event  depend  altogether  on  what  is  needed, 
when  it  is  needed,  and  the  form  in  which  it  is  needed. 

Precisely  the  same  line  of  reasoning  would  be  applied  to  English, 
history,  and  literature.  For  example:  There  has  been  a  heated 
discussion  for  years  on  the  subject  of  formal  grammar,  which  has 
been  defended,  first,  on  the  ground  that  it  furnishes  a  valuable 
mental  discipline;  second,  on  the  ground  that  it  assists  the  correct 
use  of  language.  It  is  passing  strange  how  many  ill-disciplined 
minds  there  are  among  those  who  have  spent  years  being  mentally 
disciplined  now  in  this  subject,  now  in  that.  The  Modern  School 
would  not  hesitate  to  take  the  risk  to  mental  discipline  involved 
in  dropping  the  study  of  formal  grammar.  It  would,  tentatively, 
at  least,  also  risk  the  consequences  to  correct  speech  involved  in 
the  same  step.  For  such  evidence  as  we  possess  points  to  the 
futility  of  formal  grammar  as  an  aid  to  correct  speaking  and  writing. 
The  study  would  be  introduced  later,  only  if  a  real  need  for  it  were 
felt — and  only  in  such  amounts  and  at  such  periods  as  this  need 
clearly  required. 

In  respect  to  history  and  literature,  a  Modern  School  would  have 
the  courage  not  to  go  through  the  form  of  teaching  children  useless 
historic  facts  just  because  previous  generations  of  children  have 


i8 

learned  and  forgotten  them;  and  also  the  courage  not  to  read 
obsolete  and  uncongenial  classics,  simply  because  tradition  has 
made  this  sort  of  acquaintance  a  kind  of  good  form.  We  might 
thus  produce  a  generation  as  ignorant  of  the  name  of  the  Licinian 
laws  as  we  who  have  studied  them  are  ignorant  of  their  contents 
and  significance;  a  generation  that  did  not  at  school  analyze 
Milton’s  “Lycidas”  or  Burke’s  speech  as  we  did,  who  then  and 
there  vowed  life-long  hostility  to  both.  But  might  there  not  be  an 
offset  if  the  generation  in  question  really  cared  about  the  history 
and  politics  of,  say,  modern  England  or  New  York  City,  and  read 
for  sheer  fun  at  one  time  or  another  and  quite  regardless  of  chrono¬ 
logical  order  Homer,  Chaucer,  Shakespeare,  Walter  Scott,  Steven¬ 
son,  Kipling,  and  Masefield? 

Neither  Latin  nor  Greek  would  be  contained  in  the  curriculum 
of  the  Modern  School — not,  of  course,  because  their  literatures  are 
less  wonderful  than  they  are  reputed  to  be,  but  because  their 
present  position  in  the  curriculum  rests  upon  tradition  and  assump¬ 
tion.  A  positive  case  can  be  made  out  for  neither.  The  literary 
argument  fails,  because  stumbling  and  blundering  through  a  few 
patches  of  Latin  classics  do  not  establish  a  contact  with  Latin 
literature.  Nor  does  present-day  teaching  result  in  a  practical 
mastery  of  Latin  useful  for  other  purposes.  Mature  students 
who  studied  Latin  through  the  high  school,  and  perhaps  to  some 
extent  in  college,  find  it  difficult  or  impossible  to  understand  a 
Latin  document  encountered  in,  say,  a  course  in  history.  If  prac¬ 
tical  mastery  is  desired,  more  Latin  can  be  learned  in  enormously 
less  time  by  postponing  the  study  until  the  student  needs  the 
language  or  wants  it.  At  that  stage  he  can  learn  more  Latin  in  a  few 
months  than  he  would  have  succeeded  in  acquiring  through  four  or 
five  years  of  reluctant  effort  in  youth.  Finally,  the  disciplinary  ar¬ 
gument  fails,  because  mental  discipline  is  not  a  real  purpose;  more¬ 
over,  it  would  in  any  event  constitute  an  argument  against  rather 
than  for  the  study  of  Latin.  I  have  quoted  figures  to  show  how 
egregiously  we  fail  to  teach  Latin.  These  figures  mean  that  instead 
of  getting  orderly  training  by  solving  difficulties  in  Latin  trans¬ 
lation  or  composition,  pupils  guess,  fumble,  receive  surreptitious 
assistance  or  accept  on  faith  the  injunctions  of  teacher  and  gram¬ 
mar.  The  only  discipline  that  most  students  could  get  from  their 


19 

classical  studies  is  a  discipline  in  doing  things  as  they  should  not 
be  done.1 


EXTRA  CURRICULAR  ACTIVITIES 

So  far  I  have  discussed  the  Modern  School  only  from  the  stand¬ 
point  of  its  course  of  study.  It  is  time  now  to  mention  other  im¬ 
plications  of  the  realistic  or  genuine  point  of  view.  If  children  are 
to  be  taught  and  trained  with  an  eye  to  the  realities  of  life  and 
existence,  the  accessible  world  is  the  laboratory  to  be  used  for  that 
purpose.  Let  us  imagine  a  Modern  School  located  in  New  York 
City;  consider  for  a  moment  its  assets  for  educational  purposes: 
the  harbor,  the  Metropolitan  Museum,  the  Public  Library,  the 
Natural  History  Museum,  the  Zoological  Garden,  the  city  govern¬ 
ment,  the  Weather  Bureau,  the  transportation  systems,  lectures, 
concerts,  plays,  and  so  on.  Other  communities  may  have  less, 
but  all  have  much.  As  things  now  are,  children  living  in  this  rich 
and  tingling  environment  get  for  the  most  part  precisely  the  same 
education  that  they  would  be  getting  in,  let  us  say,  Oshkosh  or 
Keokuk.  Again,  the  Modern  School  is  as  much  interested  in  the 
child’s  body  as  in  his  mind.  It  would  therefore  provide  play- 
facilities,  sports,  and  gymnastics.  A  study  of  Gary2  and  of  the 
country  day  schools,  now  springing  up  should  tell  us  whether  the 
Modern  School  should  or  should  not  seek  to  provide  for  the  child’s 
entire  day.  Some  of  this  additional  material,  we  already  know 
pretty  well  how  to  organize  and  use;  as  for  the  rest,  we  shall 
have  to  find  out. 

It  is  evident  that,  while  in  some  directions  the  Modern  School 
would  have  a  fairly  clear  path,  in  others  it  would  have  to  feel  its 
way,  and  in  all  its  attitude  would  be  distinctly  tentative  and  ex¬ 
perimental.  To  no  small  extent  it  would  have  to  create  apparatus 
and  paraphernalia  as  it  proceeds.  Textbooks,  for  example,  almost 
invariably  conform  to  tradition;  or  innovate  so  slightly  as  to  be, 
from  our  point  of  view,  far  from  satisfactory.  The  Modern  School 
would  thus  at  the  start  be  at  a  great  disadvantage  as  compared  with 

1 1  should  perhaps  deal  with  yet  another  argument — viz.  that  Latin  aids  in 
securing  a  vigorous  or  graceful  use  of  the  mother  tongue.  Like  the  argu¬ 
ments  previously  considered,  this  is  unsubstantiated  opinion;  no  evidence  has 
ever  been  presented  in  proof. 

2  The  General  Education  Board  has  just  authorized  a  study  of  the  Gary 
schools,  the  results  of  which  will  be  published. 


20 


established  schools  that  seek  gradual  improvement  through  read¬ 
justment.  But  it  would  have  this  advantage — that  it  could  really 
try  its  experiments  with  a  free  hand. 

ORGANIZATION  OF  THE  MODERN  SCHOOL 

President  Eliot’s  paper  was  called  “  Changes  Needed  in  Secon¬ 
dary  Education.”  But  the  habits  and  capacities  needed  in  a 
reconstructed  secondary  school  are  those  whose  formation  must  be 
begun  in  the  primary  school.  A  modern  secondary  school  cannot 
be  built  on  a  conventional  elementary  school.  If  the  primary  years 
are  lost  in  the  conventional  school,  the  child’s  native  freshness  of 
interest  in  phenomena  has  to  be  recovered  in  youth — a  difficult 
and  uncertain  task,  which,  even  if  successful,  does  not  make  up 
the  loss  to  the  child’s  fund  of  knowledge  and  experience.  Nor 
can  the  child’s  singular  facility  in  acquiring  a  speaking  command 
of  other  languages  be  retrieved.  The  Modern  School  would  there¬ 
fore  have  to  begin  with  a  vestibule,  an  elementary  “  Vorschule,”  in 
which  children  would  be  started  properly.  The  relation  between 
elementary  and  secondary  education  would  be  a  matter  for  ex¬ 
perimental  determination ;  for  whatever  may  prove  to  be  right,  the 
present  break  is  surely  wrong.  So,  also,  the  relation  of  the  Modern 
School  to  the  American  College  would  have  to  be  worked  out  by 
experience. 


POSSIBLE  RESULTS 

Would  the  proposed  education  educate?  Many  of  the  disagree¬ 
able  features  of  education  with  which  under  existing  circumstances 
children  are  compelled  to  wrestle  would  be  eliminated.  Would 
not  the  training  substituted  be  soft — lacking  in  vigor,  incapable  of 
teaching  the  child  to  work  against  the  grain?  Again,  is  there  not 
danger  that  a  school  constituted  on  the  modern  basis  would  be 
unsympathetic  with  ideals  and  hostile  to  spiritual  activity? 

Two  questions  are  thus  raised,  (i)  the  question  of  discipline, 
moral  and  mental,  (2)  the  question  of  interest  or  taste. 

There  is,  I  think,  no  harm  to  be  apprehended  on  either  score. 
The  Modern  School  would  “discipline  the  mind”  in  the  only  way 
in  which  the  mind  can  be  effectively  disciplined — by  energizing 
it  through  the  doing  of  real  tasks.  The  formal  difficulties  which 
the  Modern  School  discards  are  educationally  inferior  to  the 


21 


genuine  difficulties  involved  in  science,  industry,  literature  and 
politics;  for  formal  problems  are  not  apt  to  evoke  prolonged  and 
resourceful  effort.  It  is,  indeed,  absurd  to  invent  formal  difficulties 
for  the  professed  purpose  of  discipline,  when,  within  the  limits 
of  science,  industry,  literature,  and  politics,  real  problems  abound. 
Method  can  be  best  acquired,  and  stands  the  best  chance  of  being 
acquired,  if  real  issues  are  presented.  Are  problems  any  the  less 
problems  because  a  boy  attacks  them  with  intelligence  and  zest? 
He  does  not  attack  them  because  they  are  easy,  nor  does  he 
shrink  from  them  because  they  are  hard.  He  attacks  them,  if  he 
has  been  wisely  trained,  because  they  challenge  his  powers.  And 
in  this  attack  he  gets  what  the  conventional  school  so  generally 
fails  to  give — the  energizing  of  his  faculties,  and  a  directive  clue  as 
to  where  he  will  find  a  congenial  and  effective  object  in  life. 

A  word  on  the  subject  of  what  I  have  just  called  the  “directive 
clue.”  Our  college  graduates  are  in  large  numbers  pathetically 
in  the  dark  as  to  “what  next.”  Even  the  elective  system  has  not 
enabled  most  of  them  to  find  themselves.  The  reason  is  clear.  A 
formal  education,  devoted  to  “training  the  mind”  and  “culture” 
does  little  to  connect  capacity  with  opportunity  or  ambition.  The 
more  positive  endowments,  of  course,  assert  themselves;  but  the 
more  positive  endowments  are  relatively  scarce.  In  the  absence 
of  bent,  social  pressure  determines  a  youth’s  career  in  America  less 
frequently  than  in  more  tightly  organized  societies.  But  an  edu¬ 
cation  that  from  the  start  makes  a  genuine  appeal  will  disclose, 
develop  and  specialize  interest.  It  will,  in  a  word,  furnish  the  in¬ 
dividual  with  a  clue. 

In  this  connection  it  may  be  fairly  asked  whether,  in  the  end,  it 
will  not  turn  out  that  the  Modern  School  practically  eschews  com¬ 
pulsion.  Not  at  all.  But  it  distinguishes.  First  of  all,  the  inter¬ 
ests  of  childhood,  spontaneous  or  readily  excitable,  are  of  great 
educational  significance:  interests  in  life,  objects,  adventure,  fancy 
— these  the  Modern  School  proposes  to  utilize  and  to  develop  in 
their  natural  season.  Next,  the  capacities  of  childhood — for  the 
learning  of  languages,  for  example — of  these  the  Modern  School 
proposes  to  make  timely  use  with  a  view  to  remote  contingencies. 
So  far  there  is  little  need  to  speak  of  compulsion.  Compulsion 
will  be  employed,  however,  to  accomplish  anything  that  needs  to 
be  accomplished  by  compulsion,  provided  it  can  be  accomplished 


22 


by  compulsion.  Children  can  and,  if  necessary,  must  be  compelled 
to  spell  and  to  learn  the  multiplication  table,  and  anything  else  that 
serves  a  chosen  purpose,  near  or  remote;  but  they  cannot  be  com¬ 
pelled  to  care  about  the  Faerie  Queene,  and  sheer  compulsion 
applied  to  that  end  is  wasted.  If  children  cannot  through  skilful 
teaching  be  brought  to  care  about  the  Faerie  Queene,  compulsory 
reading  of  a  book  or  two  is  as  futile  a  performance  as  can  be  im¬ 
agined.  The  Modern  School  will  not  therefore  eschew  compulsion; 
but  compulsion  will  be  employed  with  intelligence  and  discrimina¬ 
tion. 

As  to  the  second  question — whether  the  Modern  School  would 
not  be  spiritually  unsympathetic,  the  answer  depends  on  the  re¬ 
lation  of  genuine  interests  of  a  varied  character  to  spiritual  activity. 
It  is,  of  course,  obvious  that,  if  the  Modern  School  were  limited 
to  industrial  or  commercial  activities,  with  just  so  much  language, 
mathematics  and  science  as  the  effective  prosecution  of  those 
activities  requires,  the  higher  potentialities  of  the  child  would 
remain  undeveloped.  But  the  Modern  School  proposes  nothing 
of  this  kind.  It  undertakes  a  large  and  free  handling  of  the  phe¬ 
nomenal  world,  appealing  in  due  course  to  the  observational,  the 
imaginative  and  the  reasoning  capacities  of  the  child;  and  in  pre¬ 
cisely  the  same  spirit  and  with  equal  emphasis,  it  will  utilize  art, 
literature  and  music.  Keeping  always  within  reach  of  the  child’s 
genuine  response  should  indeed  make  for,  not  against  the  develop¬ 
ment  of  spiritual  interests.  Are  science  and  such  poetry  as  chil¬ 
dren  can  be  brought  to  love  more  likely  or  less  likely  to  stir  the 
soul  than  formal  grammar,  algebra,  or  the  literature  selections  that 
emanate  from  the  people  who  supervise  the  college  entrance  ex¬ 
aminations? 

The  education  of  the  particular  pupils  who  attend  the  Modern 
School  might  prove  to  be  the  least  of  the  services  rendered  by  the 
School.  More  important  would  perhaps  be  its  influence  in  setting 
up  positive  as  against  dogmatic  educational  standards.  We  go 
on  teaching  this  or  that  subject  in  this  or  that  way  for  no  better 
reason  than  that  its  ineffectiveness  or  harmfulness  has  not  been 
established.  Medicines  were  once  generally  and  are  still  not 
infrequently  prescribed  on  exactly  the  same  basis.  Modern  teach¬ 
ing,  like  modern  medicine,  should  be  controlled  by  positive  indi¬ 
cations.  The  schools  should  teach  Latin  and  algebra,  if  at  all, 


*3 

just  as  the  intelligent  physician  prescribes  quinine,  because  it 
serves  a  purpose  that  he  knows  and  can  state.  Nor  will  tact  and 
insight  and  enthusiasm  cease  to  be  efficient  virtues,  simply  be¬ 
cause  curriculum  and  teaching  method  are  constant  objects  of 
scientific  scrutiny. 

In  education,  as  in  other  realms,  the  inquiring  spirit  will  be  the 
productive  spirit.  There  is  an  important  though  not  very  exten¬ 
sive  body  of  educational  literature  of  philosophical  and  inspirational 
character;  but  there  is  little  of  scientific  quality.  The  scientific 
spirit  is  just  beginning  to  creep  into  elementary  and  secondary 
schools;  and  progress  is  slow,  because  the  conditions  are  unfavor¬ 
able.  The  Modern  School  should  be  a  laboratory  from  which 
would  issue  scientific  studies  of  all  kinds  of  educational  problems — 
a  laboratory,  first  of  all,  which  would  test  and  evaluate  critically 
the  fundamental  propositions  on  which  it  is  itself  based,  and  the 
results  as  they  are  obtained. 

The  inauguration  of  the  experiment  discussed  in  this  paper  would 
be  at  first  seriously  hampered  because  of  the  lack  of  school  para¬ 
phernalia  adapted  to  its  spirit  and  purposes.  Textbooks,  apparatus 
and  methods  would  have  to  be  worked  out — contrived,  tentatively 
employed,  remodelled,  tried  elsewhere,  and  so  on.  In  the  end  the 
implements  thus  fashioned  would  be  an  important  factor  in  assist¬ 
ing  the  reorganization  and  reconstruction  of  other  schools — schools 
that  could  adopt  a  demonstration,  even  though  they  could  not  have 
made  the  original  experiment. 

Finally,  the  Modern  School,  seeking  not  only  to  train  a  particular 
group  of  children,  but  to  influence  educational  practice,  can  be  a 
seminary  for  the  training  of  teachers,  first,  its  own,  then  others 
who  will  go  out  into  service.  The  difficulty  of  recruiting  a  satis¬ 
factory  staff  to  begin  with  must  not  be  overlooked;  for  available 
teachers  have  been  brought  up  and  have  taught  on  traditional 
lines.  On  the  other  hand,  the  spirit  of  revolt  is  rife;  and  teachers 
can  be  found  whose  efforts  have  already  passed  beyond  conven¬ 
tional  limits.  With  these  the  new  enterprise  would  be  started. 


*<  a 

* 


*  v.. 


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